Entrance
by DMat
Summary: "Ladies and gentlemen, your host, Mr. Bruce Wayne!" The Manor revellers are aghast as in his stead there enters the dread Batman. Comments, critiques, and corrections welcome.


Perched above the hall at the top of a grand, sweeping staircase, a pair of eyes watches the festivities unfold below. There, gathered among the splendour and decadence, is a collection of exquisitely dressed men and women brandishing fine glasses of wine, mingling, chatting, and laughing. Times are jovial, but even among such meetings discussions of business arise.  
  
"So, has anyone seen Gil yet?" a distinguished guest smiles his teeth and a fortune of whitening agent.  
  
He sips from his glass as another guest answers, her ball gown calling back to days when a women's wealth was measured by the size of her petticoat, "No, not yet, Collin. Still, you know Gil, he never misses an entrance." She winks and Collinsworth Hayes III flaunts his smile once more.  
  
"Really Collin," a third member enters their tiny group, "Must you flash that smile of yours incessantly?" His girth is hidden behind an expertly tailored tuxedo, and his small stature is enhanced by a pair of lifts in his shoes. Collin sneers back as the interloper continues, "You must be boring poor Ms. Gerrard to tears by now."  
  
Rachel Gerrard curtseys politely, "William Stamm, my saviour."  
  
Collin meekly replies, "We were just discussing Gil's absence."  
  
"Gil? That showboat? He was invited? I swear, Wayne just gets looser and looser with the invites. Some of these women could have come off a street corner," William concludes.  
  
"Not that you mind," Rachel sarcastically remarks. William's face becomes flustered as he tries for an answer, only to be saved by the arrival of a fourth member, a dapper blond gentleman, thin and handsome, his arm holding the hand of a lovely lady in blue, "Stanislaus! Just in time, as always!"  
  
"Of course, William, my timing is absolute!" the bald man calls back through a thick black moustache.  
  
"Too bad you can't organize, though. Your trophy is wearing something that most definitely is not 19th century, as per Brucie's invite," Rachel scoffs.  
  
Stanislaus Greggart smiles politely, "The dress is 19th century, I just had it altered to meet my tastes. I must say, Bruce certainly knows how to throw a party, such fine young things to choose from…" His companion becomes uncomfortable.  
  
Collin, already bored with Stanislaus' rants, changes subjects, "Still no sign of Gil, though."  
  
"What?" Stanislaus stammers, "That imbecile! Is he that stupid? Look at us, each one of us was burned by him. How much? Three million? Thirty? What were we thinking, my friends, to invest in his insane company? I know what I lost, and I know what he'll lose if I get my hands on him, the…"  
  
Rachel is desperate to calm Stanislaus down. She knows all too well what he does when angry, "Oh, look! Bruce's help is standing by the stairs. Maybe he's finally decided to make an appearance."  
  
Alfred Pennyworth clears his throat as a trickle of sweat pours down the side of his face. He knows his duty and he will carry it, no matter the result. "Ladies and gentlemen," he begins, "The host of this evening's festivities for the salvation of Gotham's eldest forests, Mr. Bruce Wayne!"  
  
There is a small number who snigger, a small number who whisper "Oh my," and the remainder merely gasp, for there steps down the staircase a chiselled physique swathed in black and grey, the Batman.  
  
The audience is stunned. Finally, Collin manages a smile and approaches the caped crusader, "Leave it to Bruce to get the wrong costume for his own party!" There are a few laughs, yet something about the Batman, his stance or simply his aura makes the rest of the room stay dead silent.  
  
"I'm Batman," the grim figure responds in a gruff voice that's almost inaudible.  
  
"Sure you are," Collin sneers back, "Look, Bruce, whatever kinky games you play on your own time are none of my business. Why don't you just go on up those stairs and get one of the help to change you back, okay?"  
  
"You don't believe I'm Batman?" he whispers back.  
  
"Well no, I…" Before Collin can complete the sentence the Batman uses his powerful legs to spring into the air. He twirls in space and as the crowd stares at his cape his left hand moves with a single, sweeping gesture through his utility belt and ending with a quick toss. A tiny, sharp batarang is hurled across the room and smacks against the far wall, a mere inch from William's right ear. The startled man grabs at the side of his head and yells in pain as Batman lands. Rachel grabs William's arm away and sees he is unharmed, "Coward."  
  
The crowd is stunned until Collin once more opens his mouth, "That was a great feat of acrobatics and accuracy, alright. Only, come on Bruce, you've got more free time than igloo inspectors in Mexico, plenty of time to brush up on your physique."  
  
Batman displays a rare, and very wry, smile, "Still unbelieving, hmm? Okay, you four come with me and I'll prove it." William Stamm, Rachel Gerrard, Stanislaus Greggart and Collinsworth Hayes III are motioned forward. Stanislaus has a firm hold of his companion, "She has to come too!"  
  
The Batman nods and all five of them follow as the remaining crowd stays rooted at Alfred's beckoning.  
  
They soon reach an old grandfather clock. Batman grabs a hold of the antique timepiece and pulls against it firmly.  
  
"A secret door!" Stanislaus' girl, Nancy, calls out. The others look at her stupidly as Stanislaus pats her hand, "Good girl."  
  
"She must be the most intelligent date you've ever had, Stan," Collin remarks dryly. One-by-one they enter the dark passage, with Batman last and at the rear, shutting the entrance behind them. Batman shines a flashlight ahead of them allowing his guests to traverse down darkened stairs into a large, open space. The air feels damp and moist, and there is an incessant noise of high pitched squeaks and flapping wings high above. The five guests stay close together as the Batman's torch is snuffed. In the darkness he calls out to them, "Welcome," as there is a sudden ignition of dim electrical light, "to the Batcave."  
  
Even in the gloom they could make it out. Around them are stony edifices and wiring, leading to a large computer screen nearby. There is another section with gym equipment, and a third, still unlit part further down. They look above them and see blackness.  
  
Rachel shakes her head in disbelief, "Bruce…how…why? This must have cost a fortune!"  
  
"Oh, come on," Collin counters, "Can't you see what he's up to? He's not Batman. He's just pulling a prank, a joke. Well ha, ha, Bruce, very funny. You've had your fun…"  
  
"I do not think this is a joke, my friend," Stanislaus interrupts, "This is the work of a very troubled mind. Maybe it is…what you say…a call for help?"  
  
"Yeah," William smoothly joins in, smiling at the Batman, "Is that it, Bruce? Did something happen? Do you need someone to talk to? I've got the number of an excellent psychiatrist."  
  
Nancy giggles as she tries to join in, "This is pretty neat, Mr. Batman. You've got a computer, bats, some other stuff, but what about the car? I don't see it."  
  
The Batman moves past the group of five and towards the darkened end of his cave like a wraith. They are silent as he beckons them to follow, and they do, like timid sheep. Batman gestures for the five to stop before disappearing into the shadows once more. Again, a dim light flickers on to reveal a sleek black vehicle. The Batman stands beside his car and waits.  
  
"It is a very nice car, Bruce," Stanislaus is the first to remark. As he speaks the Batmobile rotates on a revolving platform. Gears crank and creak as Batman's audience stays silent.  
  
"Yeah, nice car," Collin sniggers, "This is too rich. Bruce, when we tell the others the length you went with this stunt of yours…"  
  
"It gets better," the Batman whispers as the car comes to a halt with its trunk facing the group of five. Batman reaches with one gloved hand and unlatches the already unlocked compartment. There is a hiss as the car's hydraulics hold the door aloft. He grins morbidly as he scans the faces before him. Each one is in shock and dismay at what rests within…the lifeless body of a well dressed man, with jet-black hair and a round face, and a patch of crimson soaked through his shirt.  
  
"Gil!" Rachel screams.  
  
"Bruce, you killed him!" William yells shortly after. They panic and are about to flee only to realize the cave is now pitch black, save for the dim light around the Batmobile.  
  
"What do you want?" Stanislaus yelps, "Do you plan to kill us too?" The large man whimpers as he squeezes Nancy's arm.  
  
"No, I didn't kill this man," Batman whispers.  
  
"Of course you wouldn't, silly," Nancy chirps, "Everybody knows Batman ain't a killer. He's like a guardian angel or something."  
  
Collin shakes his head, both at Nancy's ludicrous suggestion and Bruce's actions, "Stanislaus was right, Bruce, you're a very, very sick man. That's Gil, dead, and in your trunk! You've got to let us call the police! None of us here relishes scandal, and…"  
  
"And you're all primary suspects in his murder," Batman whispers with an accusing glance.  
  
"Now hold on there," Collin yells back. Batman raises his hand and lifts Collin off the ground. Collin gurgles a cry of help and William rushes forth, only to be stopped with a fist to the jaw. He reels back, falling to the ground. As he nurses a sore jaw Batman tosses Collin to the ground beside William. The two look up in disgust at their host.  
  
"Bruce, stop it! This isn't normal!" Rachel begs.  
  
"Normal?" Batman whispers, "What is normal? Having a body found on your front lawn while you're trying to host a party, is that normal?"  
  
They all stay silent.  
  
"As everyone was dancing and laughing I was called outside by my butler. He found the body. It wasn't hard to figure out the cause of death, the gun was still there. It had a silencer, it was unregistered, and the numbers were filed off, in essence untraceable. No fingerprints, nothing. The grounds weren't moist, so there weren't any discernable footprints, and everyone's attention was focused on the party INSIDE so I doubt there are any witnesses for a crime that occurred outdoors in pitch blackness. Powder burns are identifiable, only someone who has gone to so much trouble would certainly dispose of them, and any traces of his meeting. Security cameras wouldn't pick up anything, they're shut down to accommodate the large number of false alarms a party this size would generate. So my only lead, someone knew Gil was to arrive at this party, and prearranged a meeting. You four are my likeliest suspects. You've all lost a fortune in his company and are each only inches away from receivership. One of you killed him."  
  
"Hearsay and innuendo," Collin remarks, "That won't prove anything, Bruce."  
  
Rachel frowns, "Collin, you?"  
  
"No, but we've got to get Bruce out of this fantasy. He's no Batman, I don't care what he does, he…"  
  
They don't even notice Batman as he moves among them in complete stealth until it is too late. The group steps back in unison from the shock.  
  
"You think I'm Bruce Wayne. Fine. I'm also the Batman, and you know what I'm capable of. You may know my secret, but it won't help. No one will believe you; just recall your own uncertainty and confusion. I, on the other hand, will spend each and every waking moment of my life hunting and hounding you all, until one of you…cracks. No one will use Wayne Manor as a murder setting and get away with it. Not while I live!" The Batman leaps out of their circle and lands beside the trunk containing Gil's carcass. He cracks his knuckles and sneers, "How about a demonstration?" and the lights go off.  
  
They huddle together as Nancy giggles, "This is a cool party game."  
  
Stanislaus gawks at her, "How can you be so calm?"  
  
"Why should I worry? I didn't kill nobody."  
  
They can only hear the bats above screech and scream, and feel the air about them shift. Each one trembles, not for the cold, but for the knowledge that he's out there, moving freely, able to strike at any moment.  
  
Collin yells, "This is intimidation, Wayne! We'll sue!"  
  
William joins in, "Yeah! You…can't bully us!"  
  
Then they're greeted by an eerie site as the trunk opens once more, from the inside! The arm of the deceased Gil pushes his makeshift coffin lid up and his once still form now crawls out. Bathed by the glow of the trunk light, the once perfectly preserved corpse makes its way slowly towards the group of five. Despite their best efforts they scream, except for Collin, "What are doing? This is just another of his tricks. This has to mean Gil isn't dead after all! He was probably in on the joke from the start."  
  
"No, I'm afraid not," the Batman's voice comes forth as if from everywhere at once. Each step forward causes the corpse to bleed profusely from his wound. It pauses and begins to raise an accusing hand upwards.  
  
"No! It can't be!" William yells as he breaks formation with the group, only to feel a steely hand grab his shoulder and squeeze. He falls to his knees as the corpse collapses. William bursts into tears, "Damn him! I shot him! Why can't he stay dead?" He turns and looks at the Batman for sympathy, "I was furious, he robbed me of my wealth and got away clean!" He turns away, "I knew the party was an ideal time for the deed. I've been to enough of these Wayne Manor fundraisers to know what to expect and with all of us together in such a large setting, the police would never have solved it. How the heck was I supposed to know Bruce Wayne, that weak- kneed sister, was also the Batman!"  
  
"Actually, he's not," a voice calls from the darkness. Lights burst on and reveal something far removed from a cave. Instead the roof has metal bars and struts, the rocks seem so much papier-mâché, and the recorded bat noises cease. Behind all the group members stands the handsome, black haired playboy, Bruce Wayne, and beside him is the white haired and moustached Commissioner Gordon with two of Gotham's finest.  
  
"Bruce, but...?" William manages as Gil's body rises up, removing its make- up and fake blood pump to reveal the actor's face underneath.  
  
"Welcome," Bruce calls as he gives the black and grey garbed Dick Grayson a quick glance, "to my underground garage. Pretty good set up, wouldn't you say? We needed a confession, and Gil always did like to make an entrance."  
  
… 


End file.
